The Accident
by xfirexfalconx
Summary: What happens when a serial killer convinces a Shinigami to aid him in solving a murder, of all things? Rated M for adult situations and language. MurakiWatari. Please review, it inspires more updates and only takes a moment!
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Accident

Series: Yami no Matsuei.

Pairing: Muraki/Watari.

Rating: M, for later chapters and language.

Disclaimers: YnM is not mine. The characters are not mine. The story and plot are. Please review- it only takes a few seconds.

* * *

It was an accident, really. 

Yutaka Watari sighed, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his long, black coat as he shuffled down the snow-dusted sidewalks towards the Kyoto supermarket. It had started out like every other day… gorgeous, wonderful and full of promise. He'd munched on some toast and went down to his lab, hoping to work on a new potion that would make flowers grow twice as big as normal without harming them or altering their scent. It had gone fine, until a little too much of this and not enough of that coupled with a trip over his own feet had resulted in the product splashing…

It's not as if he meant to burn a hole through his favorite lab coat... or the floor...

Tatsumi was going to be positively rabid. It hadn't been that long ago that one of the lab tables had mysteriously gone up in a flash of multi-colored flames, and the boss had not-too-kindly suggested to start keeping the accidents down to three per month. Here it was, barely two weeks into November, with two disasters already tacked onto the budget. Luckily, Watari had a previous errand he had to run; Tatsumi would get to discover the little 'accident' on his own.

Looking at his watch, Watari noted the time. "Three PM sharp," he muttered out loud. "An hour should do it."

Hopefully by then, the screaming and throwing of bills would have ceased. After all, this was a pressing errand. The blond smiled as he opened up the door to the supermarket and headed for the chocolate isle. In one hour, he would be quite a few dollars poorer and a few ounces heavier; any residual tantrums on Tatsumi's part would reflect right off the happy barrier that was known as the sugar high.

;-;-;-;-;-;

It was an accident, really.

Kazutaka Muraki sighed, shoving his hands into the pockets of his long, white coat as he stalked towards the Kyoto supermarket, squinting his silver eyes slightly as a light snow blew directly into his face. It had started out like every other day… dark, dreary and boring. He downed a cup of tea and a cigarette or three before wandering outside for the newspaper, hoping to relax and work on this week's crossword puzzle. It almost happened, save for the fact that, on his doorstep along with the paper, had been a tiny and shivering kitten looking for shelter from the cold.

It's not as if he had enough to worry about… or three other fuzzy critters taking up his space…

But who could say no to a face like that? So in the little fellow went, right into a box of warm blankets and out of the snow, into the care of the other felines that had managed to work their way into Muraki's home. Now, thanks to the little fuzzball, a day that could have been savored and amounted to nothing but reading, drinking and napping in front of a warm fire would be used for running errands on the behest of a one pound furry terrorist-to-be.

Looking at his watch, Muraki clicked his tongue. "Ten minutes past three," he grumbled to himself. "Shouldn't take more than an hour."

Hopefully by then, he could kick back with the paper and try to ignore the more dire problems of life for a day. After all, he did his good deed for the month. The man adjusted his glasses as he opened up the door to the supermarket and headed for the pet supplies. At least the gods had willed that it wouldn't be as boring of a day as he had thought.

;-;-;-;-;-;

When the doorbell to the supermarket jingled, Watari didn't bother looking up from the rows upon rows of sugary delights. He'd been there not ten minutes, and already his little basket was filling up with all sorts of delicious chocolates. However, just as he was reaching for a bag of the ones with the stuff in the center, a voice up at the front counter made Watari freeze. One hand still mid-air, he turned his head and glanced up the isle just in time to see a tall, familiar form stroll by.

… _No way._

Watari quickly moved to the end of the isle and peeked around the corner as far as he dared. Sure enough, less that four or so yards away was none other than Muraki, professional stalker of Shinigami everywhere. He was studying the selection of cigarettes with the same focus and concentration that Watari had been studying his chocolates, finally tossing a pack of cigarettes into his own little basket and moving towards the books.

So, he was in Kyoto. What a coincidence. Or was it…? Watari stroked his chin, eyes narrowing as he watched Muraki disappear down another isle. Common sense said that the doctor was just here shopping, but paranoia said otherwise, and the latter is what caused Watari to act. He tiptoed out of the candy isle and sneaked towards where Muraki had gone, peering down that isle. What _was _he doing? Was that a… catnip mouse?

…Maybe he was just shopping. No one gets a catnip mouse for evil purposes.

But then Muraki's entire stance changed, his face turning sharper. Looking up, the silver-haired man turned on his heels and walked the direction opposite of Watari, vanishing once again down a back isle, away from the others. Curious, Watari followed. What was going on? Well, he was going to find out. Besides, what could Muraki really do to him? Taking a breath, he turned the corner.

Watari blinked at the empty, dead-end isle; there was only one way in and out of this back area, and he'd just come in that way. There was no way that…

"Looking for something?"

Nearly jumping out of his skin, the blond spun around to face Muraki, who stood a few feet away with a predatory smile. "Uhm… eh… eheheheh, well…" he stammered, taking a few steps back and trying not to think about what that smile meant. He tried to smile back with as much cheerfulness as one could muster when faced with certain doom. "M-maybe I was."

Muraki's smile deepened, a new glimmer entering his eyes as he took a step towards the other man. "Tsk, tsk, Watari… Did you stop to think what would happen if you found it?"

_Not really_, Watari thought, his smile faltering. He clutched his basket, scooting backwards a bit more as Muraki advanced another step; maybe playing detective hadn't been such a great idea after all. That line of thought was underscored when Watari realized he was, quite literally, backed into a corner. He had no more room to retreat into, and that platinum-haired creature was slinking forward yet.

"Following me," Muraki purred, "can be dangerous."

"Eheh…Laugh in the face of danger… Life in the fast lane, you know how it is…" Watari replied, trying to laugh. However, the laugh was cut short as Muraki's free hand slipped past Watari's head and pressed into the wall, pinning the shorter man in place.

"…Indeed."

The look on the blond's face was priceless. Muraki looked directly into those amber eyes, moving closer and smiling as they widened into the size of dinner plates. His prey's chest rose and fell rapidly; he was trying not to panic. And that silky golden hair, a few locks falling into his face…How delightful. It seemed almost unfair to toy around, since the poor thing was already staring with that look a rabbit got when a fox had it trapped. Yet Muraki couldn't help himself; the possibility for a little sadistic thrill was intoxicating.

"How sad that Tatsumi keeps all the pretty ones to himself…"

Watari was already having a brain-breaking moment when Muraki moved in for the kill, the taller man's hips casually touching his own as the hand pinning him to the wall shifted down to stroke his hair, causing him to freeze. "Ya ne…pani mayu…"

"You don't need to," Muraki purred, tilting his head and leaning in. A low chuckle escaped his throat as he brushed his lips across Watari's neck, stopping at the Shinigami's ear. His voice became a soft murmur, laced with a diluted malice. "Tell the others I send my regards."

With a small nuzzle, Muraki released Watari, flashing him a bright smile as he turned and walked away.

… _What the…_? Watari stared into space, then slowly blinked and looked down; his knuckles were white from clutching his basket so hard. Basket. Chocolate. … Oh. Yes. Blessed chocolate. Chocolate could cure anything.

Watari took a few stiff steps, constantly looking over his shoulder and all around as he crawled out of the isle and bolted from the front counter. Tossing a few hundred yen down and snatching his receipt, the blond clung to his treats and zoomed out the door, heading down the street and towards home. Suddenly, Tatsumi's tantrums seemed less scary than before.

;-;-;-;-;-;

From a rooftop nearby, Muraki watched Watari speed down the sidewalk. Unlike the lovely Tsuzuki, this one traveled alone, so it seemed… This one was like a curious little cat. That could be a useful weapon. An amused expression played across Muraki's face, tugging at one corner of his mouth. Flicking a lock of hair from his face, the doctor turned, glowing mist and snow surrounding him as he too headed home.

Yes, that one would have been great fun…

… And perhaps would be yet.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: As usual... Character's aren't mine, YnM isn't mine, the story is. Reading one review, I wish to say: yes, some things WILL be 'occ.' But the pairing -itself- is ooc in it's very nature, so...:O Love it anyhow:D Please review! It just takes a few moments and makes an author oh-so-happy to update sooner. Thankyou!

* * *

Watari lay on his bed, staring at the giant pile of goodies before him. 

Well, if one good thing had come from his little ordeal, it was that Tatsumi had taken pity on the somewhat hysterical scientist and reserved the budget lecture for later. However… every time he reached out to snag some chocolate, he got an image of… of that… bastard… in his head. Shivering slightly, he reached up and scrubbed at his cheek and neck… and entire head… and gave up.

Who knew that anything could ruin chocolate?

"I think…" he grumbled, crossing his arms and sinking his head into them. "The universe is angry with me."

There was no other explanation. At least, no other explanation that made sense or could be thought of without a very sudden, dizzy and somewhat disturbing feeling. But whether that was from the fact that Muraki nearly molested him in public or the inability to eat the chocolate without being reminded of said incident was unknown; it was difficult to tell which of those two things was worse.

…For about five minutes.

Snagging one of the chocolate bars, Watari glared at the item a bit before shredding the wrapping off and cramming half of it into his mouth at once, sucking at the sugary goodness with a moan of pleasure. To hell with it! He wasn't about to let Muraki take the enjoyment out of eating chocolate. The jerk could grope everyone until the cows came home, but he wasn't going to ruin…the…

Watari looked across the room, blinking at his reflection in the mirror. Reflecting over the last five seconds, and seeing the chocolate bar being devoured somewhat… obscenely…

He yanked the chocolate out of his mouth and very nearly burst into tears, throwing it across the room at his image with a furious cry. Standing up, he grabbed a bag and shoved all of the candy inside, his golden eyes ablaze with the terrible rage of a chocolate-eater scorned. Watari whipped on his coat and stalked out the door with the bag, heading outside and immediately began the task of hunting down one silver-haired sociopath.

No one, and no one, ruined the confectionary experience that was chocolate without a fight.

It was war.

;-;-;-;-;-;

"There you go, and you… and for you…"

Muraki stepped back and surveyed his domain, mostly eyeing the three fat felines as they dug into their dinner. All the doors and windows had been locked and sealed for the night, the incense on the altar in the back room had been lit and the fuzzy beasts were fed. There was only one duty left to attend…

Picking up the bottle of kitten formula, the man wandered over to the small box by the fireplace and peered inside. Sure enough, his charge peered back up at him and gave a feeble little mewl. For a moment, Muraki pondered how in the world he got stuck taking care of every stray that wandered past; a glance at the other three, who were all watching curiously, simply made him sigh and shake his head. He carefully scooped up the kitten, sinking down into the overstuffed chair nearby and setting the tiny thing in his lap.

"Ah well," he muttered, watching the feline latch onto the bottle. "At least the company is good."

While the little fluffball fed, Muraki picked up a somewhat worn file on the stand beside the chair, cracking it open and reading over the contents. Some of his contacts had been reporting energy ripples coming from portals long dormant, a couple had reported seeing strange creatures around the same areas, and perhaps the most disturbing of all, a letter from one contact's wife, informing that her husband had been found brutally mauled near a known power sink.

Curious things. Things that could very well be a threat to his future plans, especially if the portals were being tampered with. And yet, so little information. If only he had access to a larger database, different equipment…

Muraki raised his eyes to gaze into the fireplace, listening to the crackle of the flames and letting his thoughts wander. The old clock in another room chimed four times; it had almost been an hour since the incident with the Shinigami, and the whole thing was still mulling in the back of Muraki's mind. Oh, it has been amusing at the time and nothing more, but the more he thought over it…

Tsuzuki, that violet-eyed creature, had proven to be absolutely useless as anything other than sheer amusement. Now that he was under the eyes of both the shadow-wielder and the empath, he could only serve as entertainment when things got boring… or perhaps as a bargaining chip, if a situation ever called for one. But when it came to the idea of using a Shinigami as the proverbial one foot in the door of Meifu, Tsuzuki was not longer an option.

However…

"Tsuki, Taiyou," Muraki called softly to the air, setting the file down. "Come."

A small disturbance in the air was all that heralded the appearance of two winged dragons, both barely the size of the kitten he held. The first was a shining ebon, its eyes the darkest of ruby; it was followed by its twin, silver scaled and eyed. Swirling for a moment in the air, the two quickly landed on the arm of the chair, wiggling with eagerness. Muraki couldn't help but reach out with his free hand and scritch under their chins; they had been his loyal servants for over twenty years, and he had never really asked much from them other than what they already gave freely. But tonight… yes, tonight would be different.

"Taiyou," he said to the dark male. "I want you to guard tonight."

The dragon flared his wings and vanished, as usual. Tsuki, the female, gave Muraki a headtilt and chirp as if to ask what was going on. Muraki smiled, his right, false eye seeming to glow as he looked at the reptile. Folding her wings, the dragon's own eyes began to glow in return as she climbed up her human's arm and leaned against the side of his face. Slowly, a small trickle of gold and crimson color danced around in Muraki's mind, fleeting bits of curiosity and a question.

On his own, it would take days…even weeks…to sort through the entire shelving unit dedicated to the workings of Meifu and the Shinigami. With the proper assistance…

_Tsuki…Show to me everything in the files regarding Yutaka Watari._

An explosion of green, and a confirmation._ As you wish._

Muraki closed his eyes, letting the images and information come. And as he fell into a deep trance, his plan began to form.

;-;-;-;-;-;

The sun was beginning to set by the time everything was ready.

Watari looked at the house; it was quainter than one would have thought. Though it was surrounded by a low, white-washed brick wall and appeared to be larger than most of the houses around it, it was one level and plain colored, with most of the visible yard taken up by what looked to be a garden.

Going into ghost-mode, he made his way up and over the rather low wall, opting to avoid the gate in case if squeaked and deciding not to teleport in case there was some sort of 'alarm' set up around the property. Even with these precautions in mind, Watari couldn't seem to escape some sort of bodily harm-he landed in the middle of a rose bush.

"Gnn-"

He covered his mouth, scrambling out and hopping up and down in one place for a moment. No, no cussing out loud! If he was heard… Watari looked at the house, still covering his mouth as he thought about his options. At first he thought about trying to find an open window or door… maybe down the chimney… Of course! Or…

Glaring at the rose bush, Watari sighed. _Maybe teleporting in would be worth any potential trouble after all._

It was better than standing out in the snow and cold all day. And besides, what could Muraki do, kill him…? So, within seconds, the blond stood within the front door of the house, greeted by a surprising crew: a fat, silver striped cat, flanked by a smaller brown and a fluffy grey one. The three animals simply stood there staring up at him, and if Watari hadn't known better, he'd swear they were grinning.

… Weird.

Swallowing his desire to reach out and snuggle the felines, he slipped his hand into his coat and slowly brought out his chosen weapon… a paintball gun. He looked about the dark house, briefly wondering if anyone was even home as he stepped past the cats and began stalking his prey. However, as usual, the 'stalking' turned in an 'exploring' and Watari found himself peering through the house more to see what was in it than who was in it. There was a luxurious study that's walls had been converted into shelves for-- oh, lords, how wonderful-- rows upon rows of books, a small room for a shrine…the smell of lavender that wafted through the entire place came from a stick of incense sitting and burning on the shrine's marble surface. Certainly nothing… suspicious. In fact, it looked almost… normal.

He'd expected at least a hastily etched out pentagram on the floor. Or a miniature dungeon. Or something. Poo.

The sound of a crackling fire drew Watari past the study and back towards the front of the house. A soft, golden glow came from down a hallway to the right; the light danced along an ornate rug, flicking and glittering off gold embroidered dragons and serpents, lotus flowers and faded kanji. The walls were strangely bare, with worn marks in spots as if pictures had been removed. One spot drew the Shinigami's eye; there was a gash…no, three… in the wall itself, simply painted over.

They… almost looked like claw marks. Watari hedged at the mouth of the hallways, staring at the gashes. Suddenly, a paintball gun didn't seem like that big of a deal. Tightening his hands around the handle, Watari set his mouth into a firm line and strode down the hallway. Creepies or not, he had been violated and his chocolate had been tainted. Vengeance would be had, one way or another.

Watari sneaked along the wall, exiting the hallway and finding himself in next to an open kitchen. Beyond it lay the fireplace and another room that seemed to have been converted into a library of sorts. And within that room…

_Bingo. _

Readying the paintball gun, the blond tiptoed into the living room, narrowing his amber eyes at Muraki, who appeared to be asleep. Hmph, he was about to get a very rude awakening. Watari raised the paintball gun, aiming it right at the man's forehead. However, just as he was about to pull the trigger, a small movement just below Muraki's chin made Watari pause. When he lowered the gun and peered closer, sure enough… There was a little black kitten nestled against Muraki's neck, sleeping just as soundly as its master.

Bastard! How dare he create such a cute, fluffy scene? He couldn't shoot at a _kitten_…

Watari pouted, lowering the gun and glaring vehemently at the silver-haired man. Well, fine, then! He would just stay here until the jerk woke up, and then… once the scene was no longer cute and fluffy… Muraki would look like a walking, talking Picasso painting.

_Just you wait. I'll show- _

And that is when something big, warm and wriggling dropped onto Watari's head.

"AHHHHHHHEEEEEEIIIIII!"

A loud, inhuman screeching noise filled the air, matching the screams of the Shinigami. Watari didn't even think to keep his shields up-he was busy running around in circles, screaming and trying to get whatever it was off his head.

"What the…"

Watari screamed even more at the voice. "GET IT OFF, GET IT OFF, GET IT OOOOO-"

The last thing Watari saw before everything went black was the heavy, mahogany door that he ran into at full speed.

;-;-;-;-;-;

"…Oww…"

Opening his eyes, Watari stared into the pitch blackness, unable to see a thing. Or move, as he soon found out when he tried to rub his eyes. Slowly, everything came back to him, and he realized he was kneeling on the ground, knees tucked under his body and arms tightly bound at shoulder-height. He must have been out for some time, as the limbs had become numb; trying to move only brought an alarming amount of pain shooting up his body. Even so, Watari tried to pull against the restraints, attempting to break free. Maybe if he teleported…

"I wouldn't try that if I were you."

Watari looked up and hissed, still unable to see. _Muraki…_

A faint glow filled the room as the other man struck a match, lighting a lamp and causing the room to glow in an almost soothing way. Almost, except for the fact that Watari could now see everything. The room was bare of just about anything, save for a table on which sat the lamp, a casual throw rug and a bed in the corner. Muraki was watching him, leaning against the table and holding… a dragon?

"It was quite foolish for you to come here," the man mused, tilting his head to one side. "Luckily for you, Taiyou here has some restraint when it comes to intruders…"

Watari looked at the reptile as it snorted a small puff of fire. "Wh…I…" he stammered, then stopped and just shut his eyes. Oh lords, he was going to die. The thought only increased in intensity as Muraki's footsteps drew closer.

"Why did you come here, anyhow…?"

"Refund," Watari muttered after a moment, keeping his eyes squeezed shut.

Muraki paused, blinking at the blond with a mix of amusement and wonder. "A refund..? For…?"

Opening his eyes and remembering the poor chocolate, Watari glared at Muraki and struggled against his bonds. "My chocolate, that's what! You had to go pull that stupid stunt, and now I can't even eat the damned things without… without… Well, Mister Wonderful, it's all your fault and Tatsumi is going to KILL me for how much I spent! So. REFUND."

The silver-haired man didn't know whether to laugh or to… laugh. The poor thing looked so serious and ruffled that it was difficult to not to chuckle. "I'm sorry that I had such an effect on you as to ruin your eating habits. Was revenge also part of your brilliant plan?" Muraki asked, motioning to the paintball gun propped up in the corner.

Watari stared at the gun for a moment. "You. Are an evil bastard."

"True enough, I suppose," he sighed, wandering closer at an almost lazy pace.

"When the others get here, they'll-"

"The others won't get here," Muraki interrupted. "Not in time to help you any. I have wards set up at regular intervals for the next three miles in every direction. Even if they do manage to figure out you're missing, and suspect that it is my doings, by the time they get here we will both be long gone and there will be so many spells covering our tracks that the very gods will have trouble untangling the mess."

Falling into a silent, smoldering frustration, Watari ignored the rising panic in his mind and turned his head to look at the bonds. Closing his eyes, he tried to teleport…

…And screeched.

The crackling of electricity filled the air as the magic within the bonds activated, sending a current through the trapped man. Muraki watched, clucking his tongue a bit as the blond hung his head; it was a perfect "I told you so" moment. Had he not told Watari to not try it, he would have felt bad for the poor thing. Alas, there was only so much sympathy he could spare in a day.

Muraki closed the distance between them once the electricity had died to a low hum, kneeling in front of the blond and brushing a lock of golden hair from his face. "Tsk, tsk. Curiosity is such a troublemaker, isn't it?"

"Sonnovabitch…" Watari whimpered, curling up as best as he could. "…Kill you for this…all your fault…should never have gone to…..damn you…"

"I would think that you'd be more worried about the present," Muraki said, gently slipped his hand behind Watari's neck and caressing the nape with long, slow strokes. "Why are you so upset over that, _koneko?_" he murmured, leaning in and ghosting his breath along the exposed skin. "Because you couldn't forget, ne? And because you couldn't forget, it led you… right back to me. Ironic."

Watari froze, most brain functions shutting down. Like breathing. And speaking. And…

A soft hand caressed under the Shinigami's chin, tilting it up. The kiss was sudden, and surprisingly gentle. A brushing of lips so feather-light that it could have been accidental… had it not been Muraki. Lamp or not, everything was getting dark again; Watari suddenly remembered to inhale. Muraki pulled back, his eyes holding a smirk as he watched his prey begin to shiver.

"Although your cowering is somewhat endearing, there's no need to work yourself up. I'm not going to kill you… Yet."

"Wh…what…" Watari swallowed roughly, his tongue sticking to the roof of his dry mouth. "… What do you want from me?"

Muraki stroked Watari's cheek, smiled at the way the other man shuddered under his touch. Oh, yes, this was going to be too much fun. "You, my dear, are going to help me hack into Meifu's computer system."

Watari's eyes flew open. "You have to be kidding me!" he exploded. "Why?! Even if I could get past the security, they'd… they'd kill me for sure. I'd be tossed out on my ass so fast that…"

"Then don't," Muraki shrugged. "But do know that failure to comply with my request may lead to one day wishing you had."

"…What is that supposed to mean?" Watari asked, feeling his stomach being to sink.

Standing up, Muraki turned away and walked towards the door. "Fifteen minutes," he called over his shoulder as he turned out the light and left Watari in the darkness. "Have your answer ready by then."

Silence.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Usual disclaimer. YnM and its characters are not mine, the story is. Please review!

* * *

One.

Muraki leaned against the door to the room, closing his eyes.

Two.

Although it would be worth it in the end, this little stunt was going to be tiring. He could already feel the effort of holding the Shinigami in those bonds taking a toll on his energy level.

Three.

And that wasn't even taking the wards into consideration. And if they did need to leave suddenly, before Muraki was ready, the amount of energy needed to erase any tracks would be vast.

Four.

A silver voice filled his thoughts. _Did you tell him?_

Five.

_No_, Muraki though without opening his eyes, feeling Tsuki rest on his shoulder. A streak of red went through his mind; frustration. _If he knew, he wouldn't agree to any of it._

Six.

_You'd be surprised, _she replied. _Based on what I saw in the files, it would be easier to just…_

Muraki opened his good eye and shot a look at the youngling. _Tsuki, you read the files on our little friend. You haven't read the files on what we might be up against. Trust me, the longer we wait to fully explain the details, the better._

Seven.

She went silent.

Eight.

_Do you want him?_

_Tsuki…_

_I'm entitled to ask. And don't even think about lying. I've known you too long._

Nine.

…_If the ritual has to be done, it's not a matter of if I want him. He must want me. Much more of a challenge, don't you think? _Muraki smiled a bit, closing his eye again.

She let out a snort of smoke. _Do you really think it'll come down to that?_

Ten.

_Either way, Tsuki. I've been waiting for a while to get into Meifu's files. It would certainly aid my research, and help me further my plans. To do that, I need a Shinigami at my beck and call. Tsuzuki was too difficult; the boy got in the way._

_And the shadow-wielder. _

…_Yeah._

Eleven.

A small trickle of black. _The kid's in there babbling to himself, sir, _Taiyou muttered, his small black body curling up on Muraki's free shoulder. _Are you sure this one is going to be any better than the last? Shinigami seem like…like… basket cases._

Twelve.

_At least I'll be able to restrain this one, _Muraki sighed. _Thanks to you, Taiyou._

The male dragon seemed to grin. _No problem._

Thirteen.

Muraki knew exactly how to lead the little blond about. It would be easy enough, just tiring.

Fourteen.

Tsuki floated off his shoulder, and Taiyou followed her. _It's time… do be careful, master._

_If he hurts you, _Taiyou asked with humor in his tone, _can I roast him?_

Fifteen.

_We'll see. _Muraki stroked Taiyou and Tsuki on their backs as they hovered in front of him. Giving them both a smile, he turned and headed back towards the spare bedroom. It was time to get his answer.

;-;-;-;-;-;

One.

Fifteen minutes.

Watari stared at the lamp, watching the flame and the shadows it cast about the room. Fifteen minutes was nowhere near long enough to make any sort of choice…And with what little information he had to go on, it all made for a situation where he wanted to rip off Muraki's nose and glue it to his forehead.

Two.

Hacking, he had said. Hacking into Meifu's computers, no less. That was a cardinal sin, wasn't it? Although… it did make Watari curious about two things. Why would anyone need to hack into Meifu's files, and could it actually be done?

Three.

Oh good gods. He didn't just actually consider doing it, did he?

Four.

… He did.

Five.

Closing his eyes, Watari listened to a ticking clock, mentally counting off the seconds. The bastard could have at least told him something about what was going on. Ooh, how he wanted to know what was going on.

Six.

_That's what Muraki's counting on, _his mind grumbled. The bastard thought that being vague would stir up enough of Watari's curiosity, and anyone could guess what the answer would be if that happened. It was a brilliant, if not pure evil, plan. Unfortunately, it was working. It was going to get him killed, one of these days, that curiosity; he might as well have been the proverbial…

Seven.

'_Koneko.'_

Eight.

"How dare he call me a…a _kitten_," Watari muttered. "Smug little…"

Nine.

… Even if it was accurate enough, it assumed a familiarity that shouldn't have been there. They were barely acquaintances…and they certainly weren't friends. This was the man that had hurt everyone he _did _consider a friend, so why…

Ten.

…Why would he _help_ Muraki?

… …Why was he even _considering_ it?

… … …Why the _hell _was he thinking about that kiss?

Eleven.

It didn't mean anything. Just another part of the game. Right? … Right.

Twelve.

"Bastard," Watari muttered, trying to rub his mouth on his shoulder and failing miserably.

Thirteen.

The other Shinigami would realize eventually that Watari was missing, and it was only a matter of time before they put two and two together and came looking.

…_by the time they get here we will both be long gone…_

Damn it all, anyhow. What game _was_ Muraki playing? A dangerous one, no doubt about it. Why else would he need Watari to do anything, let alone crack through Meifu's security? Surely Muraki knew that such actions would cause an immediate stir; it seemed like a bold move for the matter to be simple. There had to be _something _amiss…But one would think that if it was so bad, the Ministry would already know.

But the Ministry had been quiet. At least, as quiet as it ever was.

… Hm. A mystery.

Fourteen.

So be it. Muraki already had him in body, anyhow, so why not go along with it? Being dead already, it wasn't like the man could do anything to sincerely harm him, after all. Besides…When was the last time he'd really had an adventure?

_Although, that k--_

Fifteen.

Watari opened his eyes and looked up, his thoughts scattering as the door opened.

It was time to choose.

;-;-;-;-;-;

The blond lifted his head as Muraki walked in, suspicion dancing in those liquid, amber eyes. Paused in the doorway and lit from behind by a light from the kitchen, the taller man's face was cast in shadow; Watari shivered. Neither of them spoke, simply watching one another as if waiting for the other to break the silence.

Muraki briefly wondered what he would do if Watari refused to go along with the plan. Forcing his hand would be risky, but necessary, in order to get the needed files. But if the situation was as Muraki thought… He needed to get the other man's trust. That alone would be difficult…

"Yes."

Snapping out of his thoughts, Muraki looked directly at Watari and tried to think if he heard correctly. "Pardon?"

Watari swallowed, finding his voice again. "Yes. I'll do it…On one condition," he added, blurting it out before he could really think.

Muraki wandered closer, kneeling in front of Watari and watching his eyes. "On one condition? What is the condition?"

_Yes, brilliant me, what IS the condition? _Watari stared a bit, trying not to burst out in a fit of nervous laughter. "Ah-ah," the blond said teasingly, a giggle managing to slip out anyhow. "If you won't tell me your plans, I'm not telling you my condition."

The expression in those silver eyes was hard to name. Muraki didn't speak for several heartbeats, then finally nodded and stood. "Fine. I will tell you my plans… in due time. However… Feel free to keep your condition to yourself, to the end of our little journey if you so desire."

Blinking, Watari looked up as the man wandered over to the cot in the corner. "You… you don't want to know what it is?"

"Consider it," Muraki replied, smoothing the sheets and brushing off a pillow, "a show of good faith. Besides. It will give you something to bargain with, if you expect that I should turn on you."

"And how can I trust that you'll be good on your word?"

"I don't make promises often, but when I do, I keep them."

Watari snorted. "I have trouble believing that," he grumbled under his breath.

Muraki paused, glancing over his shoulder before eyeing the clock across the room. Making a small noise of his own, the man walked back towards his captive, giving Watari a once-over before raising one hand and snapping his fingers. Watari let out a small shriek as the bonds around his wrists suddenly fell away from the wall, sending him sprawling flat onto his face.

"If we are going to make this work," Muraki said from over him, "you are going to have to believe it."

He tried to push himself up, but both Watari's arms and legs had gone numb. _Damn it. _Being stuck in such a position…as if things weren't embarrassing enough already.

Suddenly, a pair of strong arms slid under his body, picking him up off the ground. The blond's first instinct was to fight, and he tried, squirming every which way. Alas, the grip just tightened, pulling him closer against Muraki's chest.

"If you don't want me to drop you, please stop wriggling like a fish."

Watari froze, clenching his eyes shut and fighting a shiver. "O…kay…"

The two fell silent as Muraki walked to the bed, carefully transferring the smaller man from his arms to the mattress. Watari opened up his eyes slightly, looking down at his wrists and gawking; the bonds…thin, black metal cuffs…were still wrapped around his wrists. Images danced through his mind, not a single one chaste; what was Muraki planning now?

"Don't worry," he mused, hearing Watari let out a small whimper. "I'm not planning to join you in here."

A mind reader, too. "That's…not what I was thinking about," the Shinigami croaked. _Not completely, anyhow. _"I…"

Muraki sat on the edge of the cot, watching the clock. "…It's nearly eleven o'clock. I want you to get some rest, sleep if you can, until three. I will fill you in on things once you awaken."

Watari tried to sit up. "Muraki…"

Reaching out, the doctor gently pushed Watari back down against the bed. "No arguments. Your body needs to recover, Shinigami or no."

"…But…"

"Sleep," the man said firmly as he pulled the blankets up to Watari's chin. He stood up and headed towards the door, blowing out the lamp and shutting the door almost completely.

"Blast," Watari muttered. Curling up, he closed his eyes; first he had to wait fifteen minutes, and now it was four hours. Despite the gnawing at the back of his mind for answers, the blond slowly managed to slip off into the darkness of dreams.

Four hours would pass soon enough.

In the living room, Muraki leaned back in his chair and watched the dying fire. Things were falling into place; in a few hours, he would make the final arrangements with a few contacts, pack some things and get his companion caught up on what was going on.

…Somewhat, at least. There was one detail he would leave out until the very end. After all, it might be unnecessary…

He closed his eyes. Yes, a few hours of sleep would be enough. And then, the true games would begin.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Usual disclaimer...I own nothing but the story. And yes, I know, it tends to be OOC. Please review! _

* * *

_Lips caressed over bare skin. The silence was punctuated by the occasional sighing breath, a soft whimper. The only light came from the moon, its milky glow shimmering across silver and gold eyes, catching on every bead of sweat and turning them into glittering stars on pale canvases. _

_Cold, sharp fangs…_

"_What… what is it that you…want?" he whispered._

_Muraki pressed against him, voice a low, rumbling purr. "…I want you."_

Watari gasped, sitting straight up and staring into the blackness of the room.

"I said that I want you to… Oh, fine, I'll hold."

He stared towards the partially open door, one hand searching his throat as he drew in some deep breaths. A dream. Just a dream. Dreams were just a mixture of the environment and subconscious thoughts, according to science, and this was no different! A plain, ordinary dream caused by noises in the environment and… and subconscious…

"Grrr!" the blond clawed at his skull with both hands, tugging at his hair as he flopped back down onto the bed. "This is _not _happening."

The clock chimed the hour, its low clang echoing across the room twice.

From somewhere in the house, Muraki sighed. "Yes, hello? Ahh, good…uh-huh…Transfer all my appointments over to Doctor Katsugeki. I'm sure…he's not as dumb as he acts, don't worry. …Heichi, just do it. Thank you…"

Going back to sleep was out of the question. Watari kept looking back to the door, listening to bits and pieces of Muraki's conversations. Most were hushed, the tone hurried and urgent; he was almost glad he couldn't understand what was being said. But as time passed and the clock ticked closer to three, Watari slid out of the bed, hissing when he realized someone had removed his shoes in his sleep. He tiptoed across the freezing cold floor and peeked into the hall.

"There's no time for that," Muraki growled as he paced past the end of the hall. "If it's already attacking people…"

_Attacking people? _Watari opened the door and sneaked towards the living room, peering around the corner of the wall. Something was attacking people?

"At best, we're looking at a couple of days. But if I'm right, then we're easily looking at three to four weeks…" Muraki paused, walking right past Watari on his way to the kitchen. "If he doesn't cooperate, it could take me months. Without a willing partner with attachments to the spirit world, the ritual…"

Watari ducked back into the shadows, thoughts running through his head like crazed antelopes. _Three to four weeks…willing partner…ritual. _What did it all mean? He stared at the ground, then back up at Muraki; the man was still talking on the phone, so distracted that he didn't even notice Watari. It would have been easy to just… slip past and out the door. Leave it all behind. Let someone else worry about it.

_But…_

He looked down at his wrists. The bonds were still there; in the light, he could see that they were a thin metal, black in color and apparently without seams. A chill went up his spine, and he leaned against the wall. Somehow… leaving wasn't an option. Watari sighed and looked over to the kitchen, watching Muraki as he waved what looked to be a biscuit around in the air, emphasizing some point or another. A small smile crept across his face; it was almost cute…

"Fine. I'll see you then." Muraki set the phone down on the counter. He stood there for a time, staring into space before quietly banging the back of his head on the refrigerator repeatedly. "Uhg…"

_But you have a full week's worth of appointments, _his assistance had wailed. _We have to wait until the threat appears fully, _one contact has insisted. Muraki was sick and tired of people gumming up the works with their tiny minds. He knew what would work, he knew where things would go and how it would turn out. If people actually _listened _for a change…

"…Are… you okay?"

Muraki froze. "…Does it matter?" he asked without turning his head. So, the Shinigami was awake. How much had he heard?

Watari blinked slowly and finally took another step forward. "Yes. If you're worried, I should be terrified, I think."

The man finally looked at Watari. "Not worried…just…"

"Tired."

He stared, then looked away. "You could say that."

A few minutes of silence passed by. Watari shuffled his feet while Muraki studied the ceiling. Finally, the blond closed the distance between them, gingerly picking at a crumb on the otherwise spotless countertop.

"You said that you'd tell me."

Muraki kept his eyes pointed upwards. After a time, he turned from the kitchen and walked to the living room, sinking down into his chair. Watari followed Muraki, eyeing the worn folder the man picked up. Opening the folder, Muraki read over something, slowly turning his gaze back up to Watari.

"I need you to hack into Meifu's files and find for me everything you can on portals. Where they are. How active they've been in the past. Where they might lead. Everything."

Watari curled his hands into fists. "They'll have my hide for giving you that sort of information.

"You're being held hostage by a hostile enemy," he said with a shrug. "You were overwhelmed and complied out of panic. They will forgive you."

Damn him. "Why do you need the information?" Watari eventually sighed, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. He couldn't believe he was actually doing this.

Muraki took something out of the folder and handed it to Watari. "Is this reason enough?"

Bile rose in Watari's throat as he looked at the photograph. "This…What…"

"What you see there is all that's left of an old friend of mine. His wife found him inside a summoning circle two nights ago. He was sliced throat to lower abdomen. His entrails were partially eaten and strewn about the room. They're still looking for the head, but I heard that they finally found his arms in the backyard."

Pressing a hand to his cheek, Watari seemed to stare through the photo. So many thoughts were going through his mind that his head practically spun. The picture could have been a fake, of course. Something from a movie, tinkered with and altered. But when he glanced up at Muraki, the doctor was gazing at the empty fireplace with an almost haunted expression.

Something _was _wrong.

"A summoning accident?" Watari asked.

Muraki turned his eyes back onto his companion. "Perhaps, had it been anyone else. But that man… we knew each other since high school. Dabbled in the occult together. He was my equal on many levels, including summoning. I have trouble believing that he would make such a fatal error…" he trailed off. "…Hell. I have trouble believing that he's even dead."

Watari looked back down at the photo, then gently set it face down on the table beside the chair. "…I'm sorry."

Silence.

"I need to go pack some things," Muraki said suddenly. He stood up, turning his face away. "There's plenty of food in the fridge. Help yourself, if you're hungry."

Without another word, he was gone, disappearing down a second hallway… and taking the folder with him. Watari opened his mouth and shut it again; there was no point in trying to get more information. It was obvious that Muraki knew more, and it was just as obvious that he wasn't going to tell Watari any more… at least for the time being.

_How infuriating, _Watari thought with a sigh. His eyes traveled back down to the photo, which Muraki had left on the table. Flipping it over, he looked again at the headless, armless and shredded body. No wonder the doctor didn't want the other Shinigami on the trail…

_He has a personal vendetta. Or he's responsible for this. Who knows? _Watari moved to the kitchen, flinging the fridge door open and peering inside. _The look in his eye seemed genuine, _he pondered as he absentmindedly dug through the foodstuffs. Pulling out various items, the blond set them on the counter and gazed out the kitchen window to the sky; it was growing lighter. What would the daylight bring…?

One could only guess.

;-;-;-;-;

Muraki shut the final suitcase, locking it and setting it down with the other three. Most of the contents were things needed for various magics and spells, medical supplies and clothes. He'd tossed in a few books, more for Watari than himself, just in case there were dull moments during travel. A couple of weapons managed to weasel their way in, as usual. It felt like something was missing, but as Muraki went over everything in his mind, he could think of nothing else.

Odd.

Watari was out there making a horrible commotion. Part of Muraki wanted to rush out there and see exactly what the blond was getting into, but the other part… the one that won out… needed to stay away for just a few more moments.

"…_I'm sorry."_

The words echoed through Muraki's mind as he walked towards an old dresser, opening the top-right drawer and reaching into the bottom. His fingertips brushed cold metal; carefully, he pulled out the old, silver frame and gazed at the picture it held. Three smiling faces, gazed back, forever frozen in time. The boy in the middle, raven-haired and striking green eyes filled with hope and joy, had an arm slung around his two companions, all three radiating the same emotions.

"…I'm sorry, too," Muraki murmured, blinking rapidly as he slipped the picture into one of the suitcases.

The feeling of something missing disappeared.

He drew in a breath, raising one hand to his eyes as the stinging got worse…

…And took another breath. A sniff, rather, and paused as the smell registered as smoke.

"AIIIII! FIRE!"

_Master, _a silver mindvoice said with frightening patience, _your little friend is burning down the house._

"Oh, for crying out loud…"

Grabbing the suitcases, Muraki cast a glance over his room one last time, letting his familiar shut and spell the door behind him. Sentimentality could wait until later… He could only hope that his kitchen would still be standing when he got there.

;-;-;-;-;

He'd meant to make something easy for breakfast. Eggs, mushrooms, cheese, onions… Watari had grabbed a pan and put it on the oven, flicked it on high and dumped the stuff in. Scrambled eggs were easy enough, right?

… Apparently not. All had gone well for about two minutes before smoke started pouring from the pan. Watari had let go of the pan, which was hot as hellfire and heavier than any pan should naturally be, panicking and hopping up and down in one spot.

What to do, what to do?

"FIRE!"

That's what they taught in schools these days right? Right!

"FIIII---"

"Calm down."

An arm slid past Watari on either side, one turning the heat on the oven down while the other wrapped around his waist. "Aiii…"

Muraki pulled the smaller man against him, more to keep him out of the way than anything else; he didn't count on Watari glomming onto him, babbling quietly. Shaking his head, Muraki led the blond to the sink, grabbing some water and going back to the over, tossing it into the pan and quickly stirring it about.

"You can't put eggs in dry," he said after a moment.

Watari smiled nervously. "Eheh…I was…distracted."

"Daijobu. They're not ruined."

A few minutes passed in silence as Muraki finished the cooking. It wasn't until he went to move that he realized Watari was still clutching his waist. "…Comfy?"

Watari had been staring at the oven, thinking back on all the times things had randomly blown up around him. Labs, buildings, various objects… and now ovens. _'Comfy?' _What did Muraki mean by…? Oh dear! Watari looked up, eyes wide as he realized the position he was in. His arms were clasped around the doctor's waist, almost clinging…

"Uh…uhm..uhmm…" he sputtered, thoughts scattering the minute those grey eyes locked onto his own gaze. Opening and shutting his mouth, Watari just let go, scrambling back and pressing against a wall. "I…I…didn't mean t-to…uhm…"

Smiling, Muraki scooped some of the eggs onto a plate and held them out. "Here. Hurry up and eat so we can get moving."

He accepted the plate, simply nodding and keeping his eyes to the ground. If Muraki saw the blush his face, Watari was doomed. The two ate where they stood, remaining silent; each stared off into space, lost in their own thoughts. At least, Muraki was lost in thought… Watari was trying not to think at all. Thinking meant wondering what would happen next, meant worrying about all those touches and looks and kisses and…

…And Muraki gently took the empty plate away from Watari, setting it in the sink with his own. He truly felt poorly for the fellow, even if it was for the barest of moments. After all, he'd been kidnapped, was being held hostage and forced to betray his organization at Muraki's command. The blond was complying for the moment… but would it last, especially if…_when_…the final part of the plan fell into place? He glanced over his shoulder at Watari, slightly surprised to see the blond staring back with pondering eyes.

"Everything is ready to go," Muraki said after a long pause. "We'll be on the road a great deal of the time we're away... I hope you enjoy travel."

"Where are we going?" Watari asked, tilting his head.

"My friend…" Muraki trailed off, shaking his head a bit. "The man that died left behind a widow. She agreed to let us stay with her in Sapporo. We have a few stops to make between here and there, though, and the exact locations depend on what you find after hacking into some computers."

Watari nodded. His mind was screaming at him to not go along with the plans, and he knew it could easily end up in disaster. But curiosity was a terrible thing, and there was just _something _in those fox-like eyes…

Muraki picked up the suitcases as a small beeping came from out front. "That would be our ride. Let's get this over with, ne?"

The two headed out to the car, loading the luggage into the trunk of the black, unmarked and rather average looking car. Watari knew it wasn't a taxi, and he wasn't about to ask Muraki what strings had been pulled to insure that their movements would be kept secret. Shutting the trunk door, Muraki glanced at Watari and hesitated, seeing the sudden flash in the blond's eyes.

"Is something wrong?"

Looking back, Watari suddenly flashed a huge grin. "I still expect a refund on that chocolate."

Muraki blinked. A smile slowly crept across his face, and he reached out to trail a finger down the other man's cheek. "Don't worry, _koneko,_" he replied sweetly as he wandered over to the car door and opened it. "I'll… arrange for repayment."

The grin vanished right off Watari's mouth; he rubbed his cheek with a shiver. "Bastard…"

"Coming?"

As if there was really a choice. A tiny bit of a wry smile came back to Watari's face, and he climbed into the back of the black car next to his unlikely companion. The seats were leather and plush…the air inside was fresh and cool… and the English driver grinned at them in the rear-view mirror. Muraki glanced at him and smiled a bit, leaning back and closing his eyes; obviously, the man was somewhat trustworthy if Muraki felt he could practically fall asleep in his presence.

"Kyoto Station, Jason. Make it snappy."

The man hit the gas pedal. "Right away, sir."

Watari's eyes closed after a bit. He fought them open, only to have them close again minutes later. A touch on his arm made him jump.

"Sleep," Muraki murmured, eyes still closed. "You'll need it."

And then there was silence. Watari rolled his eyes, wondering how the man expected him to honestly sleep in a car with someone he didn't know and a sociopath. But as his eyelids started drooping, the blond allowed them to finally close as he curled upon himself. Maybe he'd just rest his eyes…

…He didn't wake until they reached the train station, two hours later.


	5. Chapter 5

"He should have been back by now."

Hisoka looked up from his book. "Stop worrying about it. Watari can take care of himself."

"But…" Tsuzuki danced back and forth. "It just seems odd that he left without saying anything. It's been quiet all day, even in his lab… well, except from when Tatsumi-san found the hole in the floor, but…"

"But nothing. He'll be f--"

A pair of violet eyes peeked up right over the top of the book. "Don't you find it strange that Watari of all people wouldn't come back to smooth things over with Tatsumi, especially when the boss is making budget cuts again?"

…He had a point.

Bapping Tsuzuki lightly with the book, Hisoka stood up and headed towards the lab. "Fine. Go ask around and see if anyone has seen him. I'll go see what I can pick up."

Just when things were looking quiet again…

;-;-;-;-;

"…Stop staring at me."

Muraki blinked, pausing with a blueberry muffin in his mouth. "Nm net stberbng."

Wringing his hands, Watari bit his lip and watched the laptop screen. "Yes, you are. See?! You're grinning! … I can't focus when you're oogling me."

"Nm net bgglng!"

They were both perched on a low, wide cement ledge outside the train station, a laptop computer balanced between on one of each of their knees. The closeness was more out of necessity than anything else; it had started snowing again, and Muraki had gone to get them both something warm to drink and eat while Watari steeled his nerves for the next step. The taller man set the muffins and cider between them, sitting Indian-style and… at first… watching the people around them. Eventually, more time was spent watching Watari with an expression that was curious and predatory all at once; he was eager to get the process started. It was driving Watari insane.

For various reasons.

The blond huffed. "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to talk with your mouth full?" he said, looking up from the computer and glaring at Muraki. He snagged the second muffin as Muraki reached for it, slapping at the doctor's hand. _Thief!_

Muraki eyed him thoughtfully. "Well… usually when in the presence of a handsome man like yourself, I'm not the one with my mouth full."

The piece of muffin sliding down Watari's throat caught there like a rock. Grabbing the cup of cider, he chugged it down and coughed, trying it ignore Muraki's cheerful smile as he gasped for air. Damn him, a hundred times over!

"Let's just get this done!" Watari squeaked a curtain of golden hair hiding his face as he snagged the computer and put it solely on his own lap. Anything was better than seeing that smug…arrogant…

Muraki smirked. _Works every time._

;-;-;-;-;

"Uhm… boss?"

Konoe looked up, smiling when he saw Tsuzuki. "Good evening, Tsuzuki! How may I help you?"

The brunette paused. "… Have you seen or heard from Watari within the last few hours? No one else has, and it…Well, with Tatsumi being angry about the lab…"

"I can't say I have," Konoe said after a moment, blinking slowly. "He wasn't sent on any assignments. You know how _that _gets."

"That's why I was a bit suspi—"

"BOOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSS!"

The older man's eyes grew wide. "What in the world…"

A young girl shoved past Tsuzuki and landed almost directly on Konoe's desk. "We have a problem, a really, really huge problem. Someone's hacking into Meifu's computer system."

"WHAT?"

"I can't get a trace on where it's coming from, either, but holy crap, sir, excuse my language. This fucker is GOOD."

Hisoka barged through the door just then, pale and looking as if he'd seen the Devil Himself. "It's Muraki."

Konoe's eyes flashed. "How do you know?"

The boy waved a hand. "Touched Watari's things… images…he ran into Muraki when he was out. Followed him."

Tsuzuki let out a small whimper. "…. What are we going to doooo?"

Everyone looked towards Konoe. The man sighed, rubbing his face. "…Alright. Get firewalls up as fast as possible on everything. Encrypt all our important documents. Hisoka, Tsuzuki. You two get to Kyoto and figure out what the hell is going on… And find Watari."

"Yes, sir."

As all three Shinigami left, Konoe reached under his desk and pulled out the special bottle' for these occasions. He took a swig of the whisky and rested his head on the table. It was going to be one of those days…

;-;-;-;-;

"Faster… faster…"

"Muraki, I'm going as fast as I _can._"

"….Well, go faster!"

A few people stared at the two men; neither of them noticed.

Watari worried his lip as he toggled various programs and windows. He'd been a bit surprised at how well the computer had been designed for hacking, but even with the sophistication of the machine, they'd already been there for half an hour as he tried to break through Meifu's firewalls. He was so engrossed in his task that he didn't even bat an eye when Muraki perched on him. The doctor had a hand on either of Watari's shoulders, peering over at the computer screen with morbid fascination.

It wasn't every day one got to see someone _hack _into the _afterlife._

Suddenly, the screen began to fill with text, files… Watari took a deep breath. "We're in," he said, his tone slightly awed. "…We're actually in!"

"Gloat later. Hurry up before they catch on."

"They already have. Don't worry. The files we want aren't their first priority," Watari replied with a grim smile. His fingers flew across the keyboard, searching. "Case files, employee profiles… they'll encrypt those first."

Minutes passed. "Watari…"

"I'm going, I'm going! They're setting up blocks faster than I thought they would, I don't understand it…"

Muraki opened his mouth to reply when a sudden feeling tugged at his mind. His grip on Watari's shoulder tightened as he felt something snap; there was only one thing it could be. "They know. They know it's us. Someone's hit one of the wards on the outskirts of Kyoto, back towards my home."

The blond bit so hard into his lip that he tasted blood. "Damn it, damn it…" he groaned. Just as panic was beginning to rise in Watari's chest, a small beep caused his breathing to hitch. "Oh holy mother of god and all the saints, we have it. There it is."

"Download everything," Muraki snapped, putting the memory stick into the computer. If the other Shinigami were already on their trail…

"Downloading. Should be any minute… Alright. Done."

"Disconnect from their system, then. We need to hurry…" Muraki stood, beginning to pace. "I need all portal activity within the last four days. There should be a pattern."

"Uhm, uhm…A portal was activated in Sapporo Wednesday. Yesterday. There was activity before that… …. It's a straight line."

"Just tell me!"

"Tuesday, one opened up between Hakodate and Hachinohe. Monday, one opened around Morioka and then around Hanamaki. There was one more on Sunday just outside of Sendai. All of them were only open for a few moments, and no demon or ghost-like entities were reported. Because it was such a short time with no apparent activity, it was chalked up to an energy line acting oddly from recent seismic activity."

"Sendai…Where in Sendai?"

Watari looked up. "It doesn't specify. The portal wasn't open long enough to get an exact location, but it was within city limits. Perhaps downtown," he glanced at the screen. "I suppose that's why no one took notice. If it had been something supernatural…"

"Except," Muraki said as he took the computer from Watari and removed the memory stick, "what we're after isn't supernatural."

"…What?"

The silver-eyed man turned his gaze back to Watari. "What we're after is human."

An image of the picture Muraki had shown him danced through Watari's mind, and he felt himself grow sick. "But your friend… he was…"

"Mangled, I know. Come," the other man interrupted. Muraki grabbed Watari's wrist and hauled him towards the ticket booth. "Two tickets to Nagasaki, please," he said to the man behind the counter, cheerfully smiling.

_Nagasaki? _Watari blinked. But if they were going to Sendai…

"Thank you, sir. Good day." Muraki tugged on Watari's arm, guiding him off towards the parking lot of the station. "Alright, now that the difficult part is over…"

Much to Watari's surprise, the black car was waiting for them at the curb and he found himself being shoved inside. "But… but…"

Muraki slid in next to him. "Buckle your seat belt. We're going to be breaking a few laws in about five seconds."

"…But Nagasaki is the other direction…" Watari whimpered.

"You're such an innocent," Muraki chuckled, ripping up the train tickets. "We're not going to Nagasaki."

And then, the light bulb turned on. "…If they come looking for me, they'll ask around and think we've gone to Nagasaki."

"Exactly."

"… That's evil."

"Thank you. Jason, take us to the usual. Landing pad three, please."

The driver nodded and hit the gas, peeling out of the parking lot and zooming away from the train station. "Certainly."

Watari swallowed. "L-landing pad?"

"I suppose I _should _have asked you," he smiled. "… Are you afraid of heights?"

;-;-;-;-;

As the helicopter flew towards Sendai, Muraki had learned the answer to his question; his companion was not meant for air travel. After throwing up twice and declining any suggestion to look out the windows at the gorgeous scenery, Watari had chosen to close his eyes and cling to the nearest stable object.

It wasn't so bad. Muraki didn't need circulation in that arm, anyhow.

He looked up from the computer, giving his free hand a break in order to check on Watari. "How are you doing?"

"Mnsmddsijfhg…"

"Ahhh…I see. Do you need another baggie?"

Watari shook his head, tightening his hold on the doctor's arm to a death grip. He didn't open his mouth to speak; his stomach might have betrayed him if he had. The helicopter jostled a bit and Watari buried his face into Muraki's jacket, a small whimper escaping his mouth. Friend, foe... When over a hundred feet in the air, such things quickly became unimportant.

"Poor dear."

"I'm going to kill you for this," Watari muttered.

Muraki tilted his head, trying his best not to laugh. "It hasn't even been twenty-four hours and you are already waiting to strangle me? This does not bode well for our relationship."

The blond's head shot up. "…R..re.." he sputtered, turning red and letting go of Muraki's arm. "We're not in a relationship!" Watari screeched as he scooted over to the other side of the helicopter.

"It's a figure of speech."

Silence.

Smirking, Muraki went back to reading through the stolen files. Between softening the Shinigami to his presence and putting pieces of the portal puzzle together, things were looking both amusing and tedious at the same time…

"…The sun's rising."

Muraki looked up at Watari; the man was staring out the window for the first time in the last hour. He followed Watari's gaze towards the horizon, where the clouds had broken to reveal a bright, golden light. "It's beautiful."

"It is…"

"The colors match your eyes," Muraki added quietly.

Watari bit his already abused lip. "…Do you get to see these things often?" he asked, carefully avoiding the statement.

"Not often enough."

The slight strain in those words caused Watari to glance over at Muraki. The doctor had looked away, however, out his own window. Nodding, Watari watched the light creep along the snow-white ground. "…I suppose…it's…not so bad… up here…"

The two's gazes met for a moment as both glanced at one another, their reasons their own. Suddenly, Muraki found himself reaching out to brush a lock of loose hair from Watari's face, a strange emotion coiling along his spine. _Maybe Tsuki was right, _he thought. _Maybe I…_

"Landing in five minutes, sir," the pilot said.

The moment was lost; Muraki paused, fingers so close to touching pale skin that it almost _hurt. _Watari shivered, his heart slamming in a panic within his chest and yet finding himself unable to look away. They were enemies, right…?

…_Right?_

Something else had crept into the helicopter, snaking through the very air between them. Whatever it was certainly didn't feel like animosity.

A frightening, horrifying, peculiar prospect.

But as the helicopter started to shake more than things ought to, he simply smiled and snatched Muraki's entire arm. "I'll be needing this, thanks!" he beamed, grasping to it for dear life and trying not to throw up. Damned heights.

Muraki blinked, looking down at Watari, who'd buried his face right back to where it had been on his white trench coat. What a strange, strange fellow…

…Maybe this ordeal would work out, after all.


	6. Chapter 6

"I'm not going."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes!"

"NO!"

Hisoka glared at Tsuzuki, who was huddle behind a giant maple tree. "We've spent_hours _finding this place and breaking down _four _wards. We're a _block_ away. It's a little _late_ to chicken out."

"It's never too late to chicken out," Tsuzuki hissed, clutching the tree and peering out just enough to glare back at Hisoka. "Why can't you just go?"

"Fine, sure. I'll skip off to the psycho's house all by myself with no one to back me up, and then I'll probably get tied up and shoved in a closet with Watari, where I'll have to listen to him trying to scream for hours and hours until said psycho decides to use me for a guinea pig."

"…Okay. Have fun!"

The younger man grit his teeth. "I'm going to tell Terazuma about this."

"… You wouldn't."

"Try me."

Tsuzuki paused, then hung his head and slunk out from behind the tree, shuffling off towards Muraki's house. "Let's go."

;-;-;-;-;-;

The snow in Sendai was nearly a foot deep. Watari wrapped his arms around himself, shuffling a couple feet behind Muraki and staring at the ground. They had been walking for hours; it had been nearly six o'clock in the morning when they had touched down just inside the city limits, and now it was rapidly approaching nine o'clock. Although Watari didn't mind the cold, it wasn't as if he was dressed for the weather, and both his toes and nose had gone numb.

Muraki seemed unphased. He had been on his cellphone since they stepped foot on solid ground, apparently getting directions for… wherever they were going. "Mmhm… well, we're on …Oh, really?" the doctor stopped, peering down a road both ways. Watari hoped that they'd finally gotten to their location. "About an hour?"

_Another hour?! _Watari groaned, trying to tune out of the conversation. He glanced up at the sky, praying to whatever god would listen that they would get to a resting place quickly. The sun was starting to peek out through the clouds, and the sunlight did _horrible _things for his complexion.

"Ahh… Here we are."

Snapping out of his thoughts, Watari looked straight ahead. The road ended and became forest, and through the forest laid a path to a bridge and to a giant temple.

"Is that where we're staying?" he asked. That had been the shortest hour ever, but he wasn't going to complain if they were staying in a place like _that._

Muraki smiled at the awe in Watari's voice. "Yes, it is. It used to be a temple, but my friend bought it and turned it into his house. He isn't going to be there for another hour, but apparently we'll be able to get in… Impressive, yes?"

Watari couldn't help but agree, silently following Muraki as they stepped off the paved roads and seemed to almost leave Sendai itself. The converted temple was surrounded by ice and snow-laden trees, looking like an ivory fortress tucked away from the rest of the world. A bridge arched over frozen waters, and as they crossed it, Watari paused to glance down at the ice. There was no reflection; he shivered as Muraki joined him.

"Where are we?" Watari whispered, staring at Muraki's reflection, which was present… but faceless.

"Bridges are funny things," Muraki replied. "They're neither one place, nor the other. A between, you might say… Come on. It's not a good idea to stare for too long."

Watari looked at the hand being offered to him. Part of him wanted to snarl and slap it away, while another part wanted…needed… an anchor to something familiar until he got his bearings. One more glance at the ice sealed his choice; he tentatively held out his hand, somewhat eased when Muraki's fingers twined with his.

Muraki stayed that way a moment, gazing into Watari's eyes and chastising himself for keeping the poor thing in the dark. "The temple is built on a place that makes it… not quite inside the realms of reality as we know it," he offered, leading Watari off the bridge and up a long, winding path to the temple's door. There was no need to tell the blond that it was built on top of a portal that may or may not have set loose a monster.

"This is where the portal opened up, isn't it."

… Right. No need. Muraki smiled wryly. "Yes, it is."

The beginning of fear was replaced by curiosity. "This should be interesting. I wonder if…"

Shaking his head, Muraki listened as Watari babbled about all the different tests that could be run on the place, how it would be interesting to see a once-dormant-now-active portal, and did they have a bathroom because that apple cider was kicking in.

If not interesting, at least it would be entertaining.

Once they reached the door, Watari quieted. Muraki knocked on the door. Once, twice…and paused for two beats before rapping again. At first, there was nothing.

Watari shifted. "Maybe no one's—"

And then, the door opened.

;-;-;-;-;-;

"Well, hello there."

Hisoka and Tsuzuki blinked, staring at one another before turning their attention back to the person that had opened the door to the Kyoto home. The short, wrinkled crone peered up at them, hands on her hips and mouth set in a firm line. She held a giant, fat silver cat in her arms, and the beast gave them a deadly look before curling its lips back and letting out a long, snake-like hiss.

"Uh…Is this…" Hisoka pointed at the house, blinking again. "…The residence of Kazutaka Muraki?"

The old lady's eyes flickered before becoming cheerful and bright. "Why, yes, it is. How may I help you two youngsters, eh?"

"We're looking for—Ack!"

Hisoka shifted his weight to his other leg, conveniently crunching down on Tsuzuki's foot while he was at it. "Oh, my brother and I are patients, and we were supposed to come on by to drop of a thank-you gift from our mother. You know how mothers get," he added with a roll of his eyes.

"Ohhh, yes," the old lady agreed. She switched her gaze to Tsuzuki, looking directly into his eyes. The cheerful expression became sharper. "He isn't here. Went out of town to help a sick friend. I'm watching the home until he returns. If you want, you can leave something with me."

The two men glanced at one another. Hisoka ignored Tsuzuki's 'okay smartypants, what now' expression, plastering a bright smile on his face. "Ahhh, thank you for the offer. I'd really prefer to deliver it in person. …Do you know how I might be able to reach him? I—"

"No. I don't," the crone interrupted, all hospitality gone from her face. "And if you were smart, Shinigami, you'd go home and let things be. For your own sake."

The door slammed shut in their faces.

Tsuzuki's eyes were wide. "… Well. That went incredibly horrible."

Hisoka poked at the door, almost falling over when an old, deep and strong ward sprung to life. "Good lords, the old bat has a punch."

"Maybe she's right. Hell, Hisoka, she knew what we are- Muraki trusts her enough to fill her in on what might be coming around or she's just very scary. Or both. Maybe we should just go home."

"And leave Watari to Muraki?"

"…Then what? We've tried teleporting to Muraki's location, and we get slammed five feet into the ground. I've tried sending messengers, and none of them have come back."

Rubbing his face, the younger Shinigami ran over the options. Yes, they could just give up and go home, and just hope that either Watari was out puttering about and just ignoring everyone or that he was… _safe_ with Muraki, which were two words that just didn't belong together but…

"Let's spiral out," Hisoka finally said, looking towards the road. "Start by checking with local car rentals and at nearby bus stations. Then head for train stations. Then hit the airports."

Tsuzuki frowned. "This is going to take a while, you know. By the time we figure out where they went…"

"It might be too late. I know. But with Grandma in there turning Muraki's house into a magic fortress and all energy imprints muddied up, there's no choice. We're just going to have to look around ourselves."

The violet-eyed man followed his partner as he walked towards the gate. "And if we can't find him? What if…" he trailed off, shuddering at the thought of being stuck in a small, enclosed space with Muraki.

The gate politely opened on its own, allowing the men through and shutting behind them.

Hisoka shook his head. "Then we wait, and hope that the dear doctor doesn't let Watari near an open flame."

;-;-;-;-;-;

"…Stop doing that."

Watari froze, hand mid-air as he went to poke at a candle. Muraki leveled his eyes at the blond, who let out a small sigh and put his hands back into his lap. "…Sorry."

The two had been sitting on plush pillows on the floor for nearly fifteen minutes, waiting for their host to arrive. When they had first entered the temple-turned-home, Watari had been surprised at how bare the large place was; it was devoid of any sort of decoration, save for what seemed to be the living room, where there was the low, rectangle-shaped table and the pillows, and what seemed to be a rather hastily thrown together alter shoved into the corner of the area.

"Your friend is a minimalist?" Watari had asked as they entered the living room.

Muraki had gone silent, staring at the messy alter. "Maybe he became Buddhist."

Watari turned his gaze towards Muraki. "Is something—"

"Oh, look. Here's a note!"

The note had sat under the candle on the table, basically giving them permission to explore the kitchen and to help themselves, but asking them to wait for him…whoever he was… before venturing elsewhere. Watari, feeling more than a little confused, simply sat down on one of the pillows and began toying with the candle. Muraki, after reading over the note a few times, took the pillow across the table and also sat.

And there they were, fifteen minutes later, still sitting… not having spoken since. Until Watari began poking his fingers into the candle, that is. Now that the silence had been broken, Watari found himself watching Muraki closely; the man was fingering the note, reading over it for the hundredth time.

"Is something the matter, Muraki?"

The man paused, not looking up. "Of course not."

That wasn't very convincing. "But you keep—"

Muraki looked up this time, intending to interrupt when suddenly, the front door smacked open and a tall, willowy man waltzed in, his long, black hair flowing out behind him. "Hell-lloooo, friends!" the man cheered. "So sorry to keep you waiting, but hey, I'm earlier than I thought I'd beeee. MURAKI! Dear lords, it's been so long. Come give an old friend a hug, come on, don't be shy."

Watari was only able to blink as Muraki actually got up, all smiles and cheer, giving the man a sweeping hug. Formality had flown out the window, and any trace of tense, worried energy that had been surrounding the doctor had vanished in a mere instant.

"It's good to see you again," Muraki agreed, smiling brightly. "Oh, Watari, this is an old college friend of mine, Tsuji. Tsuji, this is Yutaka Watari, my companion for this grand adventure."

Tsuji turned towards Watari, his dark eyes widening. "This beautiful creature? Why, Muraki, you dog… did he come willingly?" he whispered loudly, scurrying over to the blond and peering close.

Muraki grinned. "They all do, eventually."

"Haaaah!" Tsuji grinned back, turning his attention back to Watari, who was bright red and frozen in place. "Now, you listen here, Watari. Don't let this scoundrel give you too much trouble, ne, ne?"

The Shinigami nodded, bursting out into a nervous grin. "Ehheh…He's not as much trouble as he likes to think."

Rolling his eyes, Muraki gave Watari a pointed look. "Why don't you go to the kitchen and fix yourself something to eat?"

_Well, if that's not a hint…_He nodded, backing through the swinging kitchen door. Out of the men's sight, Watari leaned on a meticulously clean counter, resting his head in his arms and taking a few breaths. Between those two, he wasn't sure whether to laugh hysterically or burst out crying.

So, he did the next best thing and opened the fridge to make a sandwich.

Once Watari was in the kitchen, Muraki turned to Tsuji and smiled. "I'm sorry we intruded on such short notice. I know you're a busy man…"

Tsuji waved his hand. "Oh, hush, I owed you a few favors anyhow for back in the day. Although," the man continued, tilting his head, "I am curious. What brings you to Sendai? I haven't seen you around these parts for well over six years."

"My friend and I were heading down to Nagasaki. We were in Sapporo about a week ago enjoying the Ice Festival, and as I told you on the phone, a patient of mine requested me here… Poor thing is terminal."

Inside the kitchen, Watari looked up from the fridge, listening. _Nagasaki again, _he thought, frowning. _But we're not going to Nagasaki, he told me himself. _Why would Muraki lie to a good friend of his? And weren't they here because of the portal? Watari tiptoed to the door, growing quiet and listening in. Something wasn't making sense…

At the mention of Sapporo, Tsuji's eyes flashed. "A week ago, you say?"

Muraki leaned against a nearby wall. "Yes, we were visiting Aikan. Why? Are you and he on bad terms these days?"

"We're on no terms. He's dead."

Watari couldn't stand it anymore. He grabbed the sandwich he made and came back into the room, pretending that he hadn't heard a thing. Whatever the hell was going on, he wasn't going to hide in some sterilized kitchen while all the action happened elsewhere. He stood next to Muraki, munching on the sandwich and trying not to lose his appetite; he remembered that mangled mess of a body from the picture all too clearly.

Muraki gave him a glance, rubbing his forehead and looking genuinely surprised at the news of Aikan's death. "How…? He… seemed just fine the last time I saw him."

Tsuji shrugged. "Heart attack, I heard. It seems he had some sort of weird thing from his mother's side. Sad, ne?"

Muraki stood in silence, hanging his head a bit. "I didn't hear… We've been on the road this whole time…I should give his wife a call."

"Ahh, sorry, friend. Our phones are out," Tsuji sighed. "It is rather early, and you have been traveling all this time, as you said. Perhaps you two would like to rest a bit first? And with the shock, I'm sure you'd like to have some time to yourselves…"

"Of course, you're right... Yes, some sleep would be nice."

The dark-haired man beamed, looking as cheerful as ever. "I have your rooms ready for you. If you'd like, I—"

"Actually, dear Tsuji, we'll only be needing one room," Muraki said quietly, flashing his friend a rather subdued smile.

Tsuji turned his eyes to Watari, and for a moment, the blond felt something cold crawl up his spine. One room? Watari swallowed, looking at Muraki, whose face was perfectly calm. One room meant one bed. One bed meant…

_WHAT THE-_

"…I see. Well, in that case, follow me."

Muraki moved to follow Tsuji, looking over his shoulder. "Come, Watari. We need to get some sleep."

Watari whimpered, clutching his sandwich to his chest. _I'm not ready for this, _he cried in his mind. _I'm not ready, not ready, not read, not re—AGH!_

Sighing, Muraki grabbed Watari's wrist and dragged him along before Tsuji could notice the battle of wills. They walked behind the man, who opened a door at the end of the hall and ushered them inside. Tsuji quickly pointed out the connected bathroom with the traditional-style bath, where the towels and sheets were stored and the trick to opening the frosted-glass window.

"Well, that's about all there is to explain," Tsuji said, motioning to the room. "Feel free to use the kitchen when you get hungry, but I'd have to ask you not to wander more than that," he smiled. "The place is a tad messy elsewhere, and I'd hate to look a slob around guests."

Sitting on the bed, Muraki smiled in return. "Thank you, Tsuji. You're too kind."

Bowing, their host turned wordlessly and left, shutting the door behind him. Watari huddled by the window, watching Muraki as he flopped back onto the bed, stretching out and closing his silver eyes.

"Come here."

Watari set his sandwich down on the dresser beside the bed. "… And if I refuse?" he asked. Suddenly, pain shot through his wrists and up his arms, causing him to topple over onto the bed. Gasping for air, he could only stare at Muraki. _The bonds on my wrists…_

"Come. Here. Now."

Pushing himself up, the blond crawled onto the bed. Watari grit his teeth at the stinging in his arms, a low growl escaping his throat as he flopped down next to Muraki. The noise was cut short when Muraki's hand latched onto his waist, pulling him onto his side; they were face to face, eye to eye…

Muraki slid his arm around Watari, drawing the man closer until their bodies touched. Watari's eyes widened as lips caressed over his shoulder, fluttering shut as the feather-light touch reached his throat.

"S…stop…"

"Shut up and listen," Muraki hissed into Watari's ear. "You must do as I say."

"Why?" he whispered. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I don't want you to get killed."

Watari pulled back enough to look into Muraki's eyes. The expression there was sincere enough, and as Muraki's hand twined through Watari's hair, the blond felt himself sliding into a hazy mix of pleasure and fear. The touches were gentle, slow… sensual. Not the touch of someone who wanted to hurt…

"The bonds on your wrists are for protection," Muraki murmured quickly, his hands caressing, wandering to Watari's wrists and checking the skin around the metal. "They react to my will and would incapacitate you if you moved out of boundaries I personally set. I'm sorry I had to use them, but I need you to follow my orders when I give them without me having to detail why."

_Well, that makes sense enough… _"But…"

"Tsuji was always materialistic. Didn't you see it out there? Empty. The altar was recent; the candles on it were brand new. The figures were Buddhist. Tsuji was never religious," he continued. "Whatever that is out there is not Tsuji."

"N…not…"

Muraki rested his cheek on the blond's own. "I was the only one to know of Aikan's death. His wife told no one else."

Words froze in Watari's throat; whether it was because Muraki was starting to make sense or because the closeness between them was starting to feel natural, he didn't know. Either prospect was rather frightening.

"You think it killed Tsuji, too?"

"It only makes sense, seeing as how the portal was right here… Witnesses usually become victims," Muraki replied matter of factly, as if he knew from experience. "First Aikan. Then Tsuji. Who else?"

The look in Muraki's eyes was the same, haunted expression he had seen back in Kyoto. Hesitating only a moment, Watari slipped his arms around Muraki, closing his eyes as he embraced the taller man; Muraki froze. "I can't believe I'm about to say this," Watari murmured. "…But do what you have to do. This thing is hurting people…if I can help you stop it…Just tell me what I can do, and I'll do it."

Muraki let out a long, slow breath, relaxing into Watari's arms. Surprise kept him silent for what seemed like forever; when he finally spoke, his voice was strained. "I need you to stay in this room until I come back. No matter what you sense, what you hear, you have to stay in here and keep the door shut."

"…And in return?"

_You devil. _Pulling back just enough to look at Watari, Muraki smiled slightly. "Three days. Give me three days to find things out for sure… And then I will tell you."

"…Everything?"

"Everything."

Watari paused, then released his death grip on Muraki and curled up on the bed. "…Deal."

Muraki stroked Watari's hair one last time, slipping away and walking towards the door. "…Remember. No matter what, stay here. The bonds…" he glanced at Watari, then shook his head. "Just promise."

"I'll stay here, I promise. …. And Muraki?" Watari spoke up as the doctor walked out the door.

He stopped. "…Yes?"

"Uhm… Be careful."

Silence. The door shut, and Watari buried himself under the covers of the bed. Sleep sounded wonderful, but until he knew what Muraki was up to, he wouldn't be able to even doze. It was strange- he really shouldn't have cared about any of it. After all, Muraki had kidnapped him, used him and…

…And here he was, chewing on his fingernails over the asshole, wishing Muraki was back so he could sleep.

Watari rubbed his face, groaning. The Ministry was going to _kill _him…Good lords, this was giving him a headache. He sighed, staring at the ceiling for several minutes before sitting up, holding his head. A sharp, throbbing ache had settled in the center of his forehead

A sudden, enraged scream filled the air. "YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

_Muraki! _Watari struggled to move, but the bonds around his wrists felt like lead weights. He flopped back on the bed, howling with frustration. Yes, he'd promised to not leave the room, but the _pain… _the screams…

Scream after scream.

And suddenly… nothing.

Watari lay in the bed, sweat rolling off his skin as he stared into space, trying to breathe. The air seemed heavy, suffocating, and even though the screams had stopped, they still echoed within the Shinigami's mind. There was a stench that went beyond the sense of smell…

Death.

When the door opened seconds later, Watari could barely turn his head to look. Everything was throbbing and spinning. "M…Muraki?"

"…Go to sleep, Watari."

Watari forced himself to sit up. He turned his eyes towards the door, stomach churning as he took in the sight before him. Muraki leaned on the doorframe, clothes soaked in blood…one arm hung limp as his side, dripping crimson, while the other was pressed to his face, the same, vile red seeping through pale fingers.

"You're hurt."

"I'll take the other bedroom. Stay here like I told you, and sleep. It's safe now."

"But…"

Before another word could be said, Muraki had left. Watari growled, scrambling out of the bed and stalked towards the door. Damnit all to hell, if the bastard thought that he was just going to waltz on by covered head to toe in blood and not get grilled, Muraki had another thing coming. But as he reached for the doorknob, a sudden blast of energy through his arms sent him flying backwards…

… Onto the bed.

He tried four more times before finally staying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. "Three days," Watari grumbled. In three days, it'd all be worth it… If Muraki didn't get himself killed before then…

Maybe a nap wasn't such a bad idea.


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Hey reader, sorry this took so long to post. Between issues in my life and my computer breaking, I just didn't have time to update. But, here is chapter seven. :D Disclaimer... Remember, if owned Yami no Matsuei, there would have been lots more sex:B Please review! Enjoy._

* * *

The total lack of clutter, glitz and luxury.

The hastily constructed altar.

The knowledge of Aikan's death.

Muraki stood outside the bedroom door for several minutes, holding his head in his hands. Too many thoughts were running through his mind… Why a rather flamboyant man who loved to collect things and spend money would have an empty house, would construct an altar for a non-religious guest, would know of a death that hadn't been whispered to anyone else.

Why, why, why.

Resting the back of his head against the bedroom door, he wished that he could just go back into the room, slip into bed and pretend he was being paranoid. Pretend that nothing was wrong, that people changed and just melt into that pair of arms again…

He sighed, reaching into his coat and pulling out his Taurus gun. Judging from the noise down the hall, Tsuji was in the living room; Muraki opened his eyes and followed the sounds, moving as quietly as possible. Yes, the man was there in the living room, bent over the altar and hastily scribbling something down with low whimpering noises. Muraki's soul recoiled at the sorrow-filled, desperate sound, but thankfully his mind and body pressed forward, years upon years of experience teaching him that such things meant nothing.

It wasn't until he was in range that he cocked the gun. Tsuji's noises stopped, and Muraki's skin crawled when it looked over its shoulder, eyes purely white. "What did you do to him?"

"I should have just killed you," the creature said. "It figures you would stick your nose where it didn't belong."

"Tsuji and Aikan were my friends," Muraki replied coldly, aiming the gun at the thing's chest as it stood and turned. "It was made my business."

"You abandoned them. Some friend you are."

Muraki tightened his finger on the trigger. "I asked you a question. Answer me now."

The creature laughed. "I did nothing. I am only the servant of something far greater. And you, my friend…You who let loose the monster that devoured them…YOU will be the best sacrifice of all."

It lunged faster than expected, and the first bullet missed. The second bullet hit the thing's shoulder, but it didn't stop- Muraki found himself on the floor, claws sinking deep into his arm and shoulder, images flooding into his head as the spirit tried to wedge itself down into his brain. It laughed again, showing Muraki exactly what had happened to the two men…

_You like blood, don't you? You like to watch the suffering as the life drains away?_

_Not like that. Never like that._

_Ah, but see how the claws cut through the flesh so cleanly? And the crack of bones, how lovely it sounds…_

_You…son of a…_

_This body was a fun one. See how he screams? You like it when they scream, don't you?_

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

Screams echoed through the temple as Muraki curled his energy through his arms like a snake, lashing out as blue-white electricity and going straight through the creature on top of him. Blood was everywhere- spilling from a now useless right arm, claws biting through bone…from charred holes through the body of the man who was once called 'friend'…

The creature fell back, howling. Claws lashing out, hitting flesh…that eye was already gone, no harm, no foul… A glint of light on metal, grasping the handle of the gun in the left hand, lunging to meet a solid wall of unearthly fury, hitting back with equal rage.

"Muraki?"

That voice. Muraki stopped, blood running down his face as he aimed the gun at the man. Tsuji's dark eyes stared back, a low whimper rising from his throat along with a small trickle of blood.

"…Muraki...san… what…what have I…"

The gun wavered. For the briefest moment, the gun wavered. "…Forgive me."

One last explosion ended it, and silence fell over the temple once more.

It was several minutes before Muraki stood, wandering away from the body. He didn't know how he made it down the hall, nor what he did once there. His feet moved, his throat spoke words-- anything else were details his mind was not ready to comprehend. Eventually, the glaze went from his eyes and the mental fog parted; he was kneeling on the floor, blood-soaked towel in one hand. The body was gone, and all that remained was one small puddle of crimson that Muraki suddenly realized was coming from his own body.

Tossing the rag into the kitchen sink, he stumbled into the second, empty bedroom and went into the bathroom, turning on the light and giving his reflection a long, detached look. There was a gash across his face, oozing red… the right arm of his shirt was dripping wet, and attempts at moving the arm brought sharp, stabbing pains that traveled through his shoulder and neck. A shaky sigh passed his lips as he peeled off the clothing, preparing mentally for the long night ahead.

By the time he was done, Muraki sank onto the cold bed. His wounds were cleaned, and bandaged as best as he could- the arm was useless. Whatever he had done to clean up the mess had pushed a fracture into a break; such a thing was unacceptable, especially with the tasks that lie ahead. There was a small thread of energy left within him, and considering the circumstances, it could only go towards one thing. Closing his eyes, the doctor slipped under the covers, tuning out the rest of the world as he slipped into unconsciousness and began to heal.

;-;-;-;-;

"Have you seen a man about…this tall…like this? …Oh… I see. Well, thank you."

The thick snow had all but shut the Kyoto Station down. A few brave souls had kept a grand sum of four or five booths open, offering refunds and discounts to handfuls of customers. Tsuzuki trudged to each booth, holding up a picture of Watari to the men at each ticket counter; the answer was always the same.

"No one has seen him," Tsuzuki sighed, walking back to Hisoka, who was standing next to a closed booth and waiting. "Muraki either."

Hisoka stared at the empty booth, chewing on one fingernail and thinking. "No one that's here today, anyhow."

Tsuzuki bit his lip. "We've been looking for almost three days, Hisoka. Everyone has. Whatever happened, the trail is just…gone."

Barely hearing Tsuzuki, Hisoka reached out and brushed the snow off of the booth's counter. He lightly rested his fingers on the metal surface; he pulled away quickly and shook his head, moving to the next empty booth and doing the same. Image after image… none of the ones they needed…

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"No, I'm not sure," Hisoka replied tiredly, his temples starting to throb with the beginnings of a headache. He moved to the next booth with a sigh. "But—"

"_Two tickets to Nagasaki, please."_

That voice. The younger man froze, eyes glazing over as the images unfolded in his mind. Tsuzuki stayed back, watching from a distance; he only moved forward when Hisoka's eyes fluttered shut, catching his partner as he collapsed. Hisoka motioned to the air, muttering for several minutes before the words began to make sense.

"Nagasaki. Watari's with him. They both went."

Tsusuki frowned. "Nagasaki? But why?"

Hisoka shrugged. "No idea," he said, opening his eyes and sitting up. Rubbing his forehead, he glanced at the booth and sighed. "We'll send a few others to Nagasaki, just in case… see if they pick up on anything."

"Wait. Others? We're not going?"

"No, we're not. Because they didn't go to Nagasaki."

Blinking, Tsuzuki let go of Hisoka as the boy stood up and wandered off. "But you said…"

"Muraki smudged every last proverbial fingerprint possible to cover his tracks. Why would he leave that one?"

"Maybe it was an accident."

Hisoka stopped and looked over his shoulder. "Do you really believe that?"

"Considering who we're talking about," Tsuzuki sighed, "not really."

"Well, then. Let's go home… for now. Maybe they'll have an idea what files were hacked into… if we can figure out what Muraki was after, maybe we can find them sooner."

Tsuzuki followed Hisoka through the snow. "Do you…do you think he's going to hurt Watari?"

_One hand wrapped around a wrist. Loose hold, could easily be broken…public place, easy to run and make a scene. Easy to get away. So why…_

"I don't know, Tsuzuki. I honestly don't know."

A frightening thought, indeed.

;-;-;-;-;

The first day wasn't so bad.

The Shinigami had stayed inside his room the first day, the day when a bloodied Muraki had stood in his doorway and told him everything was 'safe.' It's not like he had a choice, at first- something kept throwing him back each time he tried to leave. But for some reason or another, once the sun had set, Watari found himself able to open the door without repercussions. A sweep of the temple revealed nothing but plenty of locked doors and one gore-covered towel in the kitchen sink. When he ran…no, no…walked quickly…to Muraki's room, he found the door locked like the rest, with not a single sound from inside.

Maybe he was dead. Watari had trudged back to his own room, arms wrapped around himself as he tried to ignore the faint, coppery smell of blood; he wasn't quite sure if he was pleased with that thought as much as he used to be. That alone called for a distraction…

Muraki had left the bags he brought with in the room, and Watari opened the first of the three and carefully peeked through it. Were there any distractions to be found…? Clothes of all sorts, canvas bags with bandages, antibiotics and small vials of liquid inside, a Bon Jovi CD…of all the things…and, the Holy Grail – a small stack of books on quantum physics, mystery fiction and crossword puzzles.

If there was one thing that overrode the snooping instinct, it was the love of books.

But there were towels… and shampoo things… and brushes. Watari's eyes shone with wicked glee; apparently he wasn't the only one who liked to primp, and there was just enough to go around. Fancy that.

So he set the books on the bed went to the bathroom, spending the next gods knew how many hours of the night compulsively scrubbing, washing, and rinsing away his worries in the shower. Soap, water and shampoo were the Holy Trinity, and by the time he was out of the delicious hot water, a great deal of the tension in his body had been lifted. What remaining stress there was found itself worked to death as he plopped himself in front of the mirror, combing out the snags until his golden hair was nice, soft and snarl free once more.

For the rest of that night, Watari read and solved puzzles, every so often stopping to glance towards the open door. It was dawn when his eyelids became heavy, a miniature clock he found in Muraki's suitcase reading five o'clock sharp. _I'll just rest my eyes,_he thought, closing them and leaning back against the pillows. When he next opened his eyes, it was nearly seven o'clock and the sun was starting to peek through the window. Just enough sleep to leave him restless, not enough to keep his sanity intact. Watari sighed, sliding out of bed and pacing.

So began day number two.

He wandered out to the kitchen, intending on making himself something to eat. However, at the sight of the bloody towel still lying in the sink, Watari found his appetite had gone missing. He stared at it a moment before grabbing a bag of chips sitting on the counter, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth; there was no way that someone as careful as Muraki would leave something like that out in the open if he could help it. Walking back towards his room, Watari stopped and checked the door to the second bedroom, sighing when he found it still locked.

_Damn it, _he grumbled to himself. Why couldn't the bastard give him some sort of sign that he was still alive in there? … Why did it matter? After all, if he was dead, Watari was free, and…

… And he needed something to do. The books were read, the puzzles had grown dull. He threw the bag of chips onto the bed and started pacing. Finally, he wandered into the bathroom, looking through all the cabinets until he found what he was searching for- cleaning supplies. Focusing on his chosen task, Watari began to clean everything he could think of… shower, toilet, sink, mirror, floor. When that was done, he moved into the bedroom, attacking the window before beginning a vicious scrubbing assault on anything that could withstand cleaner and a towel.

Finally, Watari looked up at the open window, taking note of the dark, star-filled sky. He should have slept; he needed it. Instead, he continued to scrub at the floors until they were all cleaned and, throwing the rag across the room, grumbling at the fact that his clothes were covered in spilled cleaner, dust and sweat.

And so, day number three began.

Watari sneaked over to the first of Muraki's three bags, peering inside and poking at the clothes. It seemed wrong all of a sudden… but he wasn't about to sit around in those filthy garments for another minute! He fingered a black cashmere sweater; expensive tastes, this doctor had. Shifting his eyes around the room, as if he might just get caught at the worst moment possible, Watari snagged the top- as well as a pair of pants- and ran for the shower. It had become almost an obsessive habit to pass the time, but anything was better than sitting and staring at the walls.

Shampoo, rinse, shampoo, rinse…

As usual, the hot water didn't last long enough. He slid out of the shower and slipped on the warm, clean clothes, letting out a long sigh of joy. And the _clothes_!Sure, the pants were a bit… okay, quite a bit… long in the legs, as evident when he nearly tripped over himself exiting the bathroom… but oh, it felt too good to be _clean_! But then, he caught a faint, familiar scent; tilting his head, he sniffed the air, then the sweater he wore. Yes, it was the clothes, the warm, full scent of sandalwood, clove and lavender filling his senses. His mind suddenly trailed back to when he first arrived in Sendai, clinging on Muraki's arm and face very near buried into the man's shoulder. It was the same scent, Muraki's scent, almost… comforting.

Watari wrapped his arms around himself, suddenly feeling… What, exactly? Guilt? Well, the bum shouldn't have just disappeared if he didn't want his stuff rifled through! The blond sank to the floor next to the bags, running a hand over the last, unopened one and frowning. Not guilt…

…Loneliness.

"I don't miss him," he grumbled to himself, opening the bag and poking through it. Books, random shiny objects… something to distract himself. Anything. "I don't, I don't, I…"

Shiny.

Wrapping his fingers around the silver metal, Watari pulled the picture frame from the bag and turned it over to look. Three boys smiled up at him, all dark of hair and eye; the middle one Watari instantly recognized as Tsuji just by the bright, cheerful smile, the young man's arms thrown around the boys that flanked him, one short-haired and also smiling, the other longer-haired and nearly frowning, a strange glint to his eyes. Watari turned the picture back over, looking at writing visible through the clear backing.

"_Muraki,_

_Friends forever, right?_

_Love,_

_Tsuji, Aikan, Aza."_

Watari ran his fingers over the side of the picture, reading over the writing again and again. He obviously held something important in his hands…something cherished. Something that suddenly made his companion seem very, very human. Now the guilt set in, along with curiosity. Questions began to fill his mind as he stood up, wandering over to the bed and picking up the bag of chips. Muraki obviously had a personal vendetta against whatever they were after- it killed someone he knew since goodness knows when, a friend, and had done something to Tsuji…

How come he'd never mentioned the third boy, this Aza…?

…_What we're after is human._

It couldn't have been… could it?

Suddenly, a small noise caused Watari to freeze, picture in one hand and chips in the other. He turned, wandering to the door and peeking out into the hallway; nothing was there. A small chill went down his spine, and he forced himself out into the hall, glancing about and half-expecting some hideous creature to spring out at him and eat his face off. But no… there wasn't anything in the hall or the living room. Shaking his head, he turned and started back to his room. Maybe he needed to go to sleep… he was starting to hear things!

And that's when he stopped again, turning and looking towards the other bedroom's door. Watari paused, then slowly walked towards it, staring at the doorknob with wide amber eyes. Shifting the chips into his other hand with the picture, he reached out and turned the knob, gaping when it relented and the door opened silently.

After three days… it had unlocked.

Watari stepped into the room, biting his lip as his eyes fell on the empty bed. The blond set the items down on a dresser top and wandered closer, his stomach sinking; if Muraki wasn't there, where was he? The man had been bleeding like stuck pig for crying out loud, it's not as if he could have just…

Sinking onto the bed, Watari sighed. Yes, he could have just wandered off- it's not as if Muraki was easy to predict, for good or ill. And Watari was, after all, giving Muraki the benefit of the doubt and assuming that he was telling the truth in the grand adventure… that something was desperately wrong and he needed Watari's help to solve it. It was always possible that this was all a grand scheme to lure the others into a well-plotted trap, but…

_The others would laugh at me for being so trusting._

…There had been no threats, nor had there been sweetened promises beyond that of an explanation within three day's time. Now those three days were nearly past, and all Watari could do was wait a little bit longer. It was too late to worry about anything else.

Watari brought his knees up to his chest, curling up on the bed and watching the door. He would just stay there until Muraki came back, hah! And then that guy would get the biggest verbal lashing imaginable; shame on Muraki for abandoning him like that. Well, he'd just stay awake all night if he had to, and all morning, too.

All he had to do was stay awake…

…Easy…

;-;-;-;-;

Muraki closed the bathroom door out of habit, yawning at the mirror and flinching at his reflection. Dear lords, he looked like shit- dark circles under his eyes, skin about three shades paler than normal and bandages covering about half his body like some sort of failed attempt at mummification.

He sighed, reaching up and carefully unwinding the fabric from his face. There was a thin white line across the bridge of his nose and just under his right eye, the skin around it still a tad inflamed and slightly bruised. The bandages around his arm were the next to go, and the result was about the same: jagged white scars extending from his shoulder almost to his elbow, the skin around them bruised and caked with dried blood. Muraki flexed the muscles gently, wincing at the dull throb of pain.

Healed, but not completely. It would be a good week before it was done, and even with nearly three days of sleeping, he didn't have the energy to speed it along any more than he already had. He didn't want to think about the injuries his mind and heart had sustained; there were some things that just didn't heal, no matter how much one tried, any quicker than they were meant to. The scars created by Tsuji were nothing compared to the scars created by the loss of the same.

Trying to brush the images from _that day _out of his mind, Muraki wet a towel in the sink and began washing the blood off himself. Still, even as he scrubbed at his skin, his thoughts wandered, flitting from one subject to another until he glanced at his wrists and the thin metal bonds that wrapped around them.

_Watari._

He'd nearly forgotten that he'd placed the bonds on himself as well as the Shinigami, and suddenly a flicker of concern went through his mind. The bonds served to alert Muraki to Watari's emotions, as well as keep the little blond ferret within a contained area… but it also worked both ways, and Muraki quickly realized that whatever he had felt _that day_, Watari would have felt… And then to suddenly feel nothing, to see hide nor hair of life and what with the door locked…

"Damn it," Muraki growled at himself. The poor thing probably thought he'd been abandoned. Maybe he'd left. Muraki didn't know if he had the energy levels to keep a firm hold on the bonds in anything but an empathic way, and if Watari thought Muraki was gone, well…

Tossing the towel into the shower, the doctor shut off the light and slipped out of the bathroom, heading towards the door with the intention of getting his bags from Watari's room… and hopefully finding the man still there. However, his plan went out the window as he heard a small noise come from his bed. Muraki stopped in the doorframe and turned, listening; sure enough, it was a soft snore. He blinked and wandered back to his bed, one corner of his mouth tugging up at the sight of Watari, curled up in a little ball and fast asleep. An empty chip bag was clutched in one of the blond's hands, and Muraki shook his head at the fact that Watari had decided to steal the taller man's clothes- no matter, he looked…

…Cute.

Muraki reached over and carefully hooked one finger into the chip bag, slipping it out of Watari's hands and dropping it into the trash can nearby. Watari stirred, eyes opening just enough to show the barest hint of gold; he was obviously still half-asleep, at best. He let out a soft murmur, one hand twitching, reaching out for… what?

"Go back to sleep, dove," Muraki murmured, stroking the man's cheek. "It's only me."

A phrase that could make some of the bravest whimper, and whimper the blond did, but the word that followed caused the doctor to stare.

"Stay…"

Silent for a moment, Muraki finally spoke, his tone just the slightest bit strained. "Are you sure…?"

"...Yeah…" Watari mumbled. His eyes opened a bit more as Muraki slid into the empty half of the bed, gaze dulled by the haze that came with walking between dreams and reality. "I…you're okay."

The taller man smiled slightly, tucking his good arm under his head for a pillow. "Relatively speaking."

"Thought…thought you were dead or somethin'."

"Worried, eh?"

Watari suddenly shifted closer, wrapping his arms around Muraki like he'd done days earlier. "…Yeah."

Muraki blinked slowly as Watari nestled against his chest; was the man completely delirious or just incredibly insane? Not that the doctor truly minded, but… it wasn't right. The gold-haired creature was obviously under the influence of sleep deprivation. Yet…

Once his thoughts finished crashing into one another, he slid his good arm around Watari's waist and gently kissed the blond's forehead. "…I'm sorry."

"…Don't do that again."

"Kiss you?" he asked with a small smirk.

Watari looked up; his eyes were frighteningly clear for one half-asleep. "Leave me."

The smirk was wiped right off his face. For the first time in a long time, Muraki found himself completely at a loss for words. "…Go back to sleep, you silly thing," the doctor finally scowled, turning his gaze away from those amber orbs and focusing on the window.

"...M'kay."

It wasn't a tall order, apparently. Soon, Watari was snoring away once again, and Muraki was left wide awake to contemplate his situation. When this little adventure had first stared, the goals were rather simple- get the locations of the portals, check them out and do what was necessary, then find the thing responsible and kill it. He'd known deep inside that Tsuji would involved somehow… but he still wasn't ready for the truth. Now that he knew that truth, knew what he would have to ask of himself, of the man that lay curled up in his arms…

It didn't matter, did it? Wasn't he himself a puppet master? Use others and discard them at leisure? It _shouldn't _have mattered.

A disturbance in the air and a small ball of warmth snuggling against his back drew him from his thoughts. _You're upset, _a silver voice sighed through his mind.

_I don't know what the hell I'm doing, Tsuki, _he replied to the dragon. _I thought I knew, I thought it was going to be easy._

_But it's not, is it._

_No. It's not. _Muraki shook his head. _I'm going to have to use him, you know. _

_You knew that from the start. It's why you chose him, _another voice chimed in as a second ball of warmth curled up along the back of Muraki's neck.

_He has a point, master. You knew from the beginning it might come to this; you were ready for it._

Muraki sighed. _You're right on the former…you're wrong on the latter. I wasn't ready for this._

If he could have seen the two dragons behind him, Muraki would have seen the reptiles exchange a knowing look, an almost amused glint in their eyes.

Taiyo restrained the small laugh that tried to dance through his head. _Why not, master?_

After a few heartbeats, Muraki closed his eyes. The realization sapped the last of the energy he had; sleep seemed like a very good idea, if only to close his mind to the thoughts that quite suddenly decided to try and override the careful barriers he'd set up around certain sectors of his brain.

But Tsuki wanted her answer, and it was one that couldn't be ignored forever.

_My friends, _Muraki finally sighed, slipping off into a thankfully dreamless sleep. _I expected to seduce him. I never expected to love him._


End file.
